That green
by exeditor
Summary: Sin CityKim Possible blendover. Who is that person who haunts Ron's dreams and nightmares, and how is she that color?
1. Chapter 1

"Somebody here to see you Mr. Stoppable." The nurse favored him with a vicious look of contempt as she held the door open.

A vague shape appeared at the head of Ron's hospital bed. The man it resembled glowered at him as he tapped his cigar.

"So you think you're all that Stoppable?" he said, his face calm but shaking, a violent rage barely concealed by his forced civility. "You think you're hot shit, huh? You think you can ruin my schemes and just waltz away scotfree? I own this town Stoppable, from the whores to the clergy, and there's nothing you can do about it. I can destroy everything you know and hold dear, and not one person- NOT ONE- will do a goddamn thing."

He took a puff and continued, a cruel smile on his face.

"Oh yeah, you could go up to the Judge and tell him everything, and he might not be entirely bought off, or what you tell him is so offensive that he has a sudden flash of conscience. But you know what happens then? I go after your family, your friends, your co-workers, their families, and so on. Yeah, and especially that tasty bitch you saved. Oh, yeah, perky tits and a redhead to boot. My boys will have a hell of a time with her, and I'll send you a tape of the whole thing so you can watch it after your family's funeral."

"You better believe it, you little shit. I'll destroy everything- EVERY FUCKING THING- that holds you together and makes you a man, that makes you what you are. You know what's beautiful? I can threaten you, spit on you, fucking shoot you right here in this hospital room and nobody will do a damn thing. Isn't that pretty? Doesn't that just chap your ass? I can do anything, and you, Ron Stoppable, can't do a fucking thing to stop me. Not anymore."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a slip of paper.

"Prewritten for ya Stoppable. You kidnapped Kimmy, you tried to rape her, only Barkin managed to shoot you just before you shoved your dick in her mouth. Just sign the confession, and all is forgiven. You're off the hook. Well, except for the attempted rape, and all that, but your family lives. Your parents goes on with their lives only thinking you're a rapist instead of being shot in the head during a 'robbery'. Your friends won't visit you in prison, 'cause who'd want to be friends with a. . . heh, a monster like you? Hey, at least they'll be alive, right? Sure, people will look at you like you're walking around with a dog turd in your mouth, but what's that matter in the grand scheme of things?"

He strutted, and paced in front of Ron's bed. "Nothing much you can do Stoppable. Just sign it."

For the next minute he simply puffed on his cigar.

"That's the way you gonna be? Fine," he said and stormed out, pushing as orderly out of the way as he left. The startled man glanced back, but entered the room as he did, and then turned his face towards Ron, contorting it as he faced him. The disgust and contempt was palpable. He roughly tossed the tray of food onto the night stand even though Ron couldn't move his arms more than a few inches at a time, and left.

* * *

A few people came to visit. His fiance, Zita, and her father. He waited while Zita asked him questions, then cursed him when he stayed silent. As she left, her father turned slightly, and spoke. "I don't think you did it. . . but there's nothing I can do," he said, hanging his head. "Just stay strong, alright?" He was grateful for the advice, though it comforted him little. 

Next was Kim's mother and father. Her mother simply walked up to the bed and slapped him, hard. The needles in his arm fell out. With a sob, she replaced them. "I hate the hippocratic oath," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I hate it. You piece of shit." With that invective, she turned and left, her husband's arm around her.

His own parents were a little more forgiving. They promised him that they believed in him, and they'd get the best lawyer they could, Myron, you know Myron Spiegelman, your cousin's father's sister's husband? He's the best in the tri-city. Don't you worry, we know you didn't do it, but he could see the doubt in their eyes. He couldn't blame them. He'd confided in his father that he loved Kim, and that her dating Mankey was tearing him up.

Then as the hospital was shutting down a night or two later, a scratch came at his window. A shadow, and then a shock of red hair floated over him. Her lips brushed his, her face sad as could be.

"You didn't do anything," she said. "They tried to get me to say you. . . you. . . raped me, but- but I'm still a virgin," she said, and smiled down at him, her hand resting on his chest, making his pulse race. "My mom says that she'd disown me if I visit you, but I don't care. They got to her, and my dad though not as badly. They even talked to me a little, telling me things might go bad for my. . . chastity if I talk." She shuddered, then composed herself.

"It's yours, you know," she continued, abruptly purring in his ear. "_I'm_ yours. And I'll be waiting."

* * *

"Fifteen years, less time served." 

The gavel coming down was a thunder clap, shaking him to the core.

And so it began. Although not in the way he'd thought. When he arrived, the guards had beaten him, shoved him into his cell, and mocked him for an hour or so. Kim was a well known hero and well-liked by the lawenforcement community who saw her as amascot, if not a fully respected member. As he lay, broken, bloody, the tiny room spinning mercilessly, he saw a small pink envelope on the floor.

"I used a drop box and a fake name, so they'll never figure out who I am. I'll write to you every week. Shelly."

He cried for an hour, and fell asleep on the floor that night sobbing into the concrete.


	2. Chapter 2

The weeks passed. Nothing happened except the letters. Every week, every Wednesday, they came like clockwork. A pink envelope rested on his cell when he came back from exercise. There it was, sitting on his mattress. He'd pick it up, smell it, and wonder if she'd changed. If she'd moved on with her life from the hero business, what with the danger to her life that hizzoner Drew Lipsky posed as the boss of Middleton City. She could tell him nothing about that of course, since it would give her away. They had to suspect, but there was no real return address, no local post mark, nothing that made it hers. Kim, no, Shelly was good, or Wade was.

About a year in, the letter he'd been hoping for came. She'd dumped Mankey. Stupid pretty boy. He deserved it too, since it seemed like he'd tried to. . . take liberties, although Kim was vague about the actual circumstances. That son of a bitch. Ron decided to pay him a visit when he got out. He smiled as he read it, but felt something odd at the same time.

A strange smell, not unpleasant but disconcerting to say the least. Sandalwood and a hint of vanilla. And green. He couldn't place it, but it felt true; a color as a scent, the color green. A shadow overtook him, and as it did he felt a menacing presence, like a footstep on his grave. His cage felt smaller, vulnerable, and he sat down on the bed, his back as close to the wall as possible. He happened to glance at his mirror as he did, and threw himself to the floor away from his bed.

There she sat. A slender figure all dressed in green, and smelling strongly of the beach in summer with a touch of sweet vanilla, vanilla ice cream in the sun melting and dripping all over your hand. She, it was a woman (and what a woman, with curves to tomorrow), leaned forward a little. Close to her, he could smell her acrid, bitter breath, and Ron could tell she smoked like a chimney. She grinned and her yellow teeth removed all doubt. Without warning, a hand slammed flat against his face knocking him to the floor,.

Ron watched the stars dance in his head, watched black boots settle on the floor and move to leave his cage. As his vision faded, he watched her leave, her lithe form turning once to look at him with previously unfathomable malice. A smile, but with her eyes maddened by imagined violence. She stared at him for only an instant, but Ron read her all the same: I will kill you when and how I choose, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Then she snapped her head around, leaving him dazed, confused, and with a very sore jaw.

* * *

_"She's mine, you little shit, and nothing you can do can take the pleasure of her flesh away," the slender woman shouted at Stoppable. Ron narrowed his eyes. Crazy dyke super villainess. He said as much, and she growled, flinging a ball of plasma in his direction. He dodged and ran at her, juking to avoid her blasts. With a grunt he slammed into her, pushing her against the wall and landing a solid punch to her stomach. She doubled over, retching. He crudely kicked her across the jaw, and slammed her head against a girder._

_She recovered faster than he'd liked, and came at him, but he'd already grabbed a piece of rebar. Grasping it like a bat, he swung and clotheslined her as she charged, right in the throat._

_

* * *

_  
With little else to do, Ron looked forward to the weekly letter. Which made one week all that much worse.

Following her visit, he found himself wondering just who she was. It didn't matter for whom, he already knew that, but he wondered just why she had come. What was her motivation? Who had allowed her in his cell, since he was a "rapist"? Someone in the know, who was aware of the truth. Someone seeking vengeance.

But why was she angry at him? It made no sense. If she was in on the whole thing, she had no reason to hate him. As he lay pondering, it dawned on him that it was time for the weekly letter. He rose up, more awake now, and glanced at the floor. Nothing. Nothing outside on his meal tray shelf, no envelope anywhere to be seen. There was the window which, for a moment, he stared out of for some semblance of reason. Had she forgotten about him over such few months? And so shortly after ditching her significant other? Had she found somebody else? Of course she had, you buffoon. It's not like she promised herself to you or anything

_She had._

It's not as if she promised to write to you forever.

_She did._

He agonized over it for a day. The lack of a letter, the missing taste of normalcy. Then as he lay in bed, he slapped himself. _Ron, you idiot_, he thought. _She's over with you. Some guy-friend in jail, yeah, you've known him a long time, but so what? Life goes on, ob-la-di, ob-la-da_. He smiled and wondered what the "parole board" of Lipsky's cronies would think of his confession.

* * *

_As she lay on the ground, her throat quickly turning purple, he leaned over her, and smiled._

_"That's one you won't get," he said. Ron raised his arm back made to swing the rod one last time to finish the bitch for hurting Her. Then he flinched and his eyes grew a little wide. He glanced down. His shirt had a large hole in it that hadn't been there the last time he checked. Blood slowly pumped out of it. He looked back. The righteous Sergeant Steve Barkin held a smoking snub-nosed revolver in a steady grip. He watched Ron over the sights. Ron languidly stood and turned towards him._

_"Why?" he said in a plaintive voice._

_"Can't let you run around doing what you feel Stoppable," Barkin said. "That's not the way human beings do things. I don't want you going down the wrong way son."_

_"Doesn't matter," Stoppable said, and spinning 'round slammed the bar across Shego's temple as hard as he could. He hurt her skull split as Barkin's gun cracked, and the floor of the warehouse came up to met him._

_"Should have listened," Barkin said, his voice sad._

_The last thing he felt before waking in the hospital was Kim holding his hand._

_

* * *

_  
Yes, if you've read _That Yellow Bastard, _you'll notice things are significantly altered. Well, this is a blend over, not a cross over. I'm putting the characters where I think they fit, and changing things slightly to put any square pegs in round holes.


End file.
